


Feels Like U Crashed Into My Life

by Kaoz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Impala, Men of Letters, Supernatural - Freeform, hellhound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2742431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoz/pseuds/Kaoz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Týphōnë has been a prisoner far longer than she can remember. So she's not about to let two guys in a '67 Impala derail her escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

****

The rain is a barely there drizzle and the road is slightly foggy and slick.  Both Winchesters are gloomy and silent. The windey road takes his full concentration and the gray sky with its dark clouds still full of rain that don’t look as though its going to come down anytime soon. There's uncomfortable silence in the car, a conversation about the next step the brothers can't agree upon. It’s the same version of yesterday and every other argument they’ve had in the last nine years. The outcome is always the same; the brothers just do what they think is best, even if the other one doesn’t agree.

From above, on right side of the road there's a jagged slope. From the wet dirt, roots poke out, crumbling dirt and rocks roll down into the road from the overhang. Its not a deadly drop, not too high up but it would definitely hurt to land from that high up. The road is silently eerie. A soft fog rolls over the road, low to the ground and it parts for Baby as she speeds on down.

**W**

Running feet stumbled on uneven ground, leaves and twigs. Mud splattered legs, scraped hands and face. Makes a grab for a thin tree and a bloody foot sinks into the soft ground around the roots. Another step forward and the ground drops. It breaks apart, crumbles until it’s a hard tumble, rolling in twigs, mud and rocks and then it’s a dead-drop. Hands manage to grab a couple of roots and smacks hard into the side of the ragged overhang.

**W**

Sam leans forward in the passenger seat, he wipes a hand at the windshield because he's not sure he's seeing this.

Dean also leans forward - "What the hell…?"

"She's gonna fall." Sam braces on the dash as Dean slams the brakes cursing but she's definitely falling. "Dean… !" Until…she kicks off the protruding rock and sort of turns that fall into a dive. The Impala skids on the wet road.

**W**

The impact is harsh, its jarring but the moving object, slick with rain, offers no grip. She slides along the roof, elbow hitting the back windshield, shoulder slamming onto the trunk and then its gravel and oily water. Her cheek stings from the scratches along the asphalt. Her hands splay flat on the ground, water pooling around her fingers as she gets to her feet.

**W**

The Impala hasn’t fully come to a stop. Dean's door is already opening while Sam looks behind to where the girl is shakily trying to get on her feet. Dean has the Impala in park, engine still running as he steps onto the road. Sam's door creaks open and he's looking at the girl, slightly hunched over, straighten up in time to see the man drop in a few feet from her.

**W**

She braces for another fight, no weapons left, each one expended on the body before. It comes at her full force. She ducks the first and second blow, blocks the next and redirects the one after that. She gets a grip on it before it slips away and plants a fist in her face. She rolls to her back, kicks up just in time to send it stumbling.

**W**

The brothers move towards her as one, their way blocked by two more figures that appear from opposite sides of the road. No flutter of wings to say they come from above and then the pitch black eyes have the brothers reaching for the one weapon that kills demons.

**W**

The metal echoes with the impact of her back and head as she gets slammed. Its hand is at her throat, gripping tightly, cutting off her breath. She's weaker than before, the rain gave her advantage against the army sent for her. These stragglers are all that’s left and maybe all that’s needed to do the job. Still, she's not giving up, hand splaying flat on the metal. The water pebbles slowly pull together, drawn towards her hand to pool under her palm. She grips the cool cylinder, quickly forming into a spike, solidifying even as she brings it up. The tip sinks easily into the left eye, the hand at her throat loosens significantly. Drawing on the added strength, she pushes the rest of the spike until her palm is flat on his face. He falls back but she goes with him, grabbing onto his neck with both hands.

**W**

Dean pulls the bloody knife from the man as flickers of light shoot through the meat suit. He lets it fall to the ground and glances towards Sam whose struggling to hold his own with the demon. The thunk of metal draws his attention to the trunk and the girl being throttle by a demon. A howl echoes and before Dean has a chance to act - help Sam - a huge blurred shape just falls out of the sky. It lands behind the demon trying to pull away from the girl. It leaps, its bulk slamming into both of them. The girl disappears beneath them and the demon turns to dust, puffs of black powder that turn to sludge once its splattered all over the road. The dog is huge, bared teeth snarling towards the Winchesters. Dean stumbles back a pace when it lunges towards the Impala and then it goes for Sam. Dean tries to get to his brother but he comes around the trunk as the demon is crushed, bursting into more black powder.

"Sam?!"

The dog turns on Dean, snarling and snapping as it leaps towards him, forcing Dean to back up, knife raised.

"Dean?" Sam calls, he wipes at his clothes, making disgusted faces at the black substance covering him.

"Sam!"

"..Fine! I'm good." Sam calls getting to his feet. He spots the black-gray fur as Dean slowly moves out of its way. They both stare at the dog backing up to the girl laid out in the road. Sam glances to where the black power is sinking into the ground and back at the dog trying to get the girl to wake up. "Its… hers?"

"Doesn’t look as though it wants to tear her to pieces." Dean frowns, knife still held ready, watching intently as the dog pats a huge paw on the girls shoulder and side. She doesn’t stir and the dog utters a high pitched whine.

"I think…it was helping her." Sam states taking a tentative step towards them. The dog snarls, teeth bared at the approaching pair that immediately halt.

Dean lowers the knife, makes a show of putting it away and holds out both hands, palms up. "Easy boy…"

"Dean! What are you doing?" Sam is alarmed but he stops reaching for him when Dean shakes off the restraining hand.

"I'm not gonna hurt her." He keeps his eyes on the dog, teeth still bared threateningly. It backs up for each step Dean takes towards them. "Easy… see? Just … gonna check…" he glances down at the girl but she's got a swathe of inky hair over her face. He skims his fingers along her cheek, hooking the damp strands to see the scratches on her skin, the bruise purpling rather extravagantly.

"Dean?" Sam takes a tentative step towards his brother and stops as soon as those fangs snarl at him. Dean falls back on his ass, the dog ignoring him in favor of Sam, its body protectively poised over the girl.

"Damn it, Sam!" Dean scowls. "Easy! Hey, woa!" Dean pulls his hand back from the snapping jaws but the dog doesn’t make a grab for him. "I'm trying to help." He scowls and the dog snarls in reply but backs up.

Dean shifts to his knees and gently slips a hand through the muddy locks to search for a pulse. Satisfied to find it steady, he slips his hand around her neck and slowly shifts her.

"What?" Sam leans slightly forward but he can't see over Dean's shoulder.

"Smacked her head." Dean mutters. He gently lays her flat, fingers lightly probing her temple and the raw, bleeding scrapes. The fall should have done more damage, broken leg at the very least…

The demons chasing her… Dean wonders what they want with her. Its one reason he decides they're going to get her out of the road. He's not about to dwell on his memories of Hell or the months leading up to his trip down there or even on the _how_. Most nights, he still can't sleep past those memories, even with the liquor he downs like juice. The memories haunt him…

Dean looks up, it had been raining before and even with the slight drizzle that’s more like a mist, the girl is barely damp. The mud on her legs and arms is mostly dried out and Dean can already feel little beads of rain accumulating in his short hair.

Dean slips his arms under her. He gets up, easily managing her weight. He's taken aback by how light she feels and frowns at the dog. "You stay off my leather seat." He tells it.

The dog watches him standing in the middle of the road with the girl in his arms. It nips at her fingers but gets no response. Dean slowly backs up, turns and heads towards the Impala.

Sam gets the back door surprised his brother would even consider having the wet dog lounging in the back seat. This isn't like the job - "Look out!"

Dean sort of turns but the dogs head smacks into his side. He stumbles and with the girl in his arms, Dean smacks into the open door. Painfully.

The dog snuffles, shakes its head then turns and runs off the road and disappears.

"What the hell…?" Dean watches confused, arms full of the unconscious girl.

**W**

Hotel room; Sam has the first aid bag open on the foot of the bed. Dean comes back with towels and the ice bucket with water.

"What are we doing here?" Sam sighs, drops the bottle of peroxide and takes a step away from the bed and the unconscious girl his brother laid on it. "There's more questions than answers- that…dog? Those were demons!"

"I saw." Dean sets the towels on the nightstand beside the ice bucket. He leans across her and grabs the peroxide. "She wakes up, we get answers. 'Till then…" he tosses the cap, sits on the bed, grabs the first towel and starts on her face.

Sam runs both hands through his messy shag of hair and walks around to grab another towel, the ice bucket and dips it into the water.

They work silently and efficiently; Dean cleans the cuts and scrapes on her face, he manages to patch up her busted lip and then switches the peroxide for the ice bucket of dirty water. Sam takes the last clean towel and dabs at the scrapes on her legs now that he's wiped the dried mud off. Dean comes back with clean water and grabs the only towel left from the bunch he took out of the bathroom. He wipes the dried mud from her face careful to avoid her 'ouchies'. He's had enough time to admire her features; dark eyebrows softly arched. A peppering of freckles over the bridge of her nose. Full lips tinted a just kissed rosy shade and softly shaped like a heart… He wipes her arms clean and notices her hand slowly clench. The towel in his hand feels brittle, looking at it, he sees the mud flaking off the dry cotton.

"What…?" Dean frowns, he knows it was soaking wet, he places his hand on her arm but she doesn’t feel hot - her skin is cool.

**W**

She feels lightheaded, tired, sore … She opens her eyes and focuses on the white ceiling, the lack of wet, musty air and the cold. She turns her head slightly, wincing at the muscles protesting.

"…careful-."

She pulls her legs towards her, hands in fists, arms instinctively moving to block as she tries to get up. It's not easy with both Winchesters trying to restrain her. Sam has both her legs, loses his grip on her left ankle and barely avoids the foot striking at him.

Dean grabs her wrists, "We're not gonna hurt you!" isn't helping to calm her. He doesn’t notice the ice bucket tipping over on her until the water glides up her arm, covering the scrapes he can see smooth out as the water dissipates so there's pale smooth skin left in its wake.

She strikes out, her hand free and smacks her palm on his wrist.

"Get off!" she follows that with another kick but Sam doesn’t let go. She grabs the ice bucket as her hand accidentally knocks it off the bed. The plastic whacks Dean hard upside his head, earning a curse. The ice bucket flies right at Sam's face, he has to let go of her to duck but it still smacks the top of his head.

"Damn it!" Dean takes a step back, his body blocking the door. "Look, we're not trying to hurt you."

But she doesn’t believe them. They're not going to let her leave, she knows that,

But _they_ don’t know what she can do.

"We're trying to help you-." Sam scowls, yanking the pillow he got in the face and tosses it aside.

She grabs the lamp and throws that too, making her way around the bed, closer to the brothers and the door.

"Hey!" Dean puts his foot down, scowling at the girl throwing random shit at them. "Knock it off-!"

Sam grabs for her again, blocking the chair she tries to throw but its heavier than she's expecting and she's not at full strength. She can feel the little bit she had gained start to drain out of her.

"NO!" she struggles but they both have her restrained. "No!"

"Listen!" Dean grips her wrist, stopping the fist trying to hit him. "We stopped them. Those demons, they aren't coming after you-."

She laughs, her voice breaking, because they have no idea, they don’t know what they're talking about. "Hunters." She sags in their arms, her breaths panting, but she knows that’s exactly who they are. "You're all fools." She mutters, choking back on hysterical laughter.

"How…" Sam looks at Dean but his brother is staring at the girl.

Dean cups his hand on her face, touch gentle, he tilts her head back and smoothes dark strands out of the way. "Your face…" because the deep scrapes definitely look better than they should. The bright red, bloody scratches are healing and the bruise is all but gone.

"Water." She doesn’t look away from Dean and doesn’t struggle in Sam's grip. After a moment, Dean steps back, hands dropping to his sides. At Dean's slight nod, Sam lets go of her as well. She sways on her bare feet but slowly makes her way to the bathroom door.

"Dean…" Sam frowns, questioning with a look what their next move is. The water pours into the sink from the faucet and she dips both hands under. Again, Dean watches water glide up her bare arms, watches as it coats the raw scrapes he's only just cleaned.

Right before their eyes, she heals. Each bruise, scratch and blemish just smoothes away, disappearing as the water absorbs into her skin.

"What…?" Sam steps into the bathroom and quickly finds himself dropping to his knees. He can't breathe, hacking and coughing as struggling to get another breath.

"Sam!?" Dean grabs his brothers shoulder, looks at her but she's ignoring them both. "Sam!"

"..ca-!" he drags in a rattling breath but its not enough air and Sam hacks a glob of clear liquid.

"What did you do to him?" she looks at Dean, one hand still under the running water. "My dog."

"Wh-. Are you doing this?" he demands, glaring at her while trying to keep Sam from face planting on the linoleum floor. "Stop it!"

Sam leans back, his airway clear enough he can take in gulping breaths of air.

"Don’t." she warns when Dean takes a step into the bathroom.

"I told you." Dean snaps. "We helped you."

She doesn’t believe them. She keeps the water running, opening her palm as water pools and starts to take shape. She sees their expressions; awed, shocked, confused, guarded. Once the blade is completely formed, she closes her fingers around it, taking it out of the water.

"How did you do that?" Sam breathes, wide eyed at the stiletto shaped dagger that looks as though it's made of glass.

"Where?" she asks them again and by her tone, Dean knows she's not going to ask a third time.

"He took off." Dean pulls Sam out of the bathroom. "The mutt chewed a demon to dust-."

"Was he hurt?" she takes a step towards them. Dean notices the water in the faucet flows towards her and frowns; that’s not normal. He's second guessing his decision to help her because she's not as helpless as he'd thought. Even with the threat of demons chasing her…

"No." Sam answers. "He just ran off…" he sees the quick flash of disappointment cross her features before she straightens her shoulders.

She points the water blade at them and walks into the room again. "Get out of my way."

"Fine." Dean backs off, arms crossed. "Go on." He jerks his chin towards the door she slowly backs towards.

"Wait." Sam stops his forward step and raises his hands, palms out. "We … I'm Sam-."

"Are you shitting me?" Dean scowls at his brother. He's been gagging on the bathroom floor thanks to her and whatever mojo she pulled. And now Sam is making introductions-

"What he said." She agrees, perplexed and suspicious.

"That’s my brother, Dean." Sam ignores his brother. "We are; Hunters. And those demons-."

"Aren't the only ones." She cuts him off. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. And Hunters are the last thing I need."

The Winchesters look at each other; "What?"

**W**


	2. Týphōnë

"I was captured."

They managed to get her to talk. It helped that the noise of the small town stopped her not far from the hotel room door.

"Every man dead…"

They gave her space and the only chair in the room to sit in, close to the door. Not that she's ready to walk out.

"I disobeyed."

They listen to the girl chased by demons tell her story. Listen to the voice and the indecipherable accent. Her speech pattern is a mix of proper English, modern slang and formal speech.

"…followed them because I knew where they were going. I knew I was as capable as the men…"

What comes next is so unexpected the Winchesters aren't sure they hear her correctly.

"But Father did not want a daughter. He would rather fight with his sons beside him. So I would show him, his daughter was just as good as any one of his sons."

She looks at them, her eyes bright in the lamp lit room.

"I saved him. Both of them. I put my arrows to the soldiers attempting to kill my Father. He knew I was close. I came down once the Romans were dead. Father…"

Sam looks to Dean, his frown mirrored by his brother because they can't believe what she's just said.

'Romans __?'

"He said not a word save orders. My brothers went ahead but only Athos returned. He spoke little, but we knew. There were more soldiers coming. Father ordered me to leave, go back … I refused."

Dean is trying to wrap his mind around what she's saying. He's not even sure how its possible, she should be dead! Dust, worm food, mulch even!

"Then they were upon us. My last arrow took their commander from his horse. I can't remember whose sword I took up … I stayed beside my Father. … And at the last… he gave his life to save mine."

She can picture it clearly; blood staining his cloak, sword lying in the road …

"I knew then… his reason for leaving me behind."

He knelt among his men, his eyes locked on her while Roman soldiers surrounded them.

"He loved me too well to see me dead. Even as a slave … at least I would have another day to fight."

He reached for the broken spear, lunged to his feet, yelling as he cut down three Romans before their swords cut him down.

"It was his last order. My Father's last command … Fight."

They can both see the glint of steel in her eyes.

"What about the demons?" Sam clears his throat. He can ask about the Romans later.

"The first one I encountered, he was the Roman commander I was… 'gifted'." She doesn't look away from either of them. Sam has a better idea of what she means thanks to his history course. He'd rather not think about what she endured as their captive.

"I killed him. The same as the demons that have been sent for me. After I killed the two Roman guards in his tent."

She doesn't bat an eye, talks about killing Roman soldiers - like its no big deal. And then Dean has to tell himself if what she's saying is true … then she's from a different time, a different way of life and of living.

"How do you do that?" he nods to her hands. "With the water."

She looks at her hands and shrugs. "I don't know." She looks up at them in turn. "I have an affinity with water. I can shape it, feel it… Water gives me strength, it heals and sustains my body. But It cannot save me from death. Too much heat or lack of water… I am like any other."

"You..." Sam sighs, both hands running through his shaggy mop of hair. "You're saying … how? You can't have lived this long. I mean-."

"What are you?" Dean interrupts Sam's stammering. He's not in the mood for some geek-out.

"My Father told me I was a gift from the Gods." She replies softly. "I never knew what he meant. My Mother died while I was still young and I don't remember much of her. My brothers rarely told stories of her but they all agree I strongly resemble her." She sighs and drops the blade she made from the water. It hovers between her hands, shifting into a glob that glides up her arms and disappears. "They were never in accord on her death. Its why I always assumed she must be alive. Maybe as a prisoner, somewhere …. Gods only know."

The brothers look at each other. They have no clue as to what she is or who or even why the demons want her so bad.

"I know I am out of my time." She draws their attention. A simple statement that lets them know she is not in completely in the dark.

"How are you still alive?" Sam's curiosity is downright idiotic at times but in this occasion Dean is right there with him.

"How aren't you freaking out?" he scowls. "Running water, trains, planes, hell- electricity! There was none of that back then."

"He enjoyed my reaction."

"Who?" Sam leans towards her, hands clasped and at full attention.

"My captor. He would … boast. All the changes… and my fear, sorrow, despair…. They were all dead." Her family all gone. Everyone who had known her or of her. "Turned to dust while the world kept changing." She shakes her head, inky strands glinting with copper under the soft lamp light. "Electricity… it was his first toy. He grew bored easily. Before that it was languages. When he tired of one, he'd begin lessons on another. Then he showed me all the advancements humanity produced. Each war as it passed, more and more dead … and I remained." She looks up and through them. "My cage an ever burning ring of flames. … Until he had something else to show me." She focuses on Sam, her eyes hard. "But I never forgot my place. Especially when he was kind."

"Who?" Dean questioned.

Her eyes focus on Dean. "They called him the Shining Star."

WI


	3. You Think You've Found A Good Girl

The Winchesters are fairly certain who it is that kept her a prisoner.

_'Lucifer.'_

Dean makes it back to the hotel room with the bag for their … he's not sure what the hell she is to them. Not their prisoner. Not at all… Too soon to call her a friend. Hell, Dean's not even sure he wants to be her friend. Ally? Maybe… with time…?

"Hey." Sam is at the table, surfing the net on his lap top for more history clues and lore. Dean could give a shit. He's seen Spartacus Blood and Sand. That's plenty education and if not, there's always 300 and 300 Rise of an Empire. Now that one-.

"She hasn't come out." Sam mutters. He was hoping to pick her brain, ask questions about where she comes from but she didn't give him a chance. Dean utters an annoyed sigh and heads over to the closed door.

"Tÿ." Dean knocks, half expecting her to be gone already.

"You may enter."

"Uh," Dean is stuck for words at the… was it even an invitation? "I'll leave the clothes right here." He cracks the door open and drops the bag on the floor before closing it just as quickly. And what the hell kind of tone was that?

Sam does a bad job of covering his snicker.

"Shut up." Dean mutters. He moves across the hotel room, frowning. If he's going by the TV show … then, he's pretty sure she was some kind of important person.

**W**

Its been long enough but she still doesn't want to come out of the water. All the mud washed off, her wounds healed… She feels revived and strong. For the first time that she can remember…she's clean. And hungry.

She steps out of the water, droplets absorb into her skin and by the time she's at the door there's no need for a towel. The plastic bag has a set of clothes she's seen them wear in the box; TV. She knows what they are, the terms; pants, shirt, shoes… but she has no idea what the other items are. Lacy garments that look nothing like the suits on TV the women wore to swim in and she still doesn't understand why they need to wear anything at all to go swimming.

She takes the white top and slips it over her head, it feels soft against her skin. The pants are next and she doesn't like the feel of the material, nor the fit which is too confining for her liking. She takes the rest and steps into the room.

"What is this?"

Both Winchesters turn to her and stop what they're doing.

"That, uh, its um…" Sam slowly stands up, glances at Dean and then back at her. He can't decide where to look though his eyes are always drawn to the lace held in her hand.

"This is not comfortable." She tugs on the jeans and drops the bag on the bed.

"You're supposed to wear that under the shirt." Dean points to the lacy bra he picked up at the store. He got weird looks from the lady at the register so he didn't bother hanging around longer than it took to grab the very bare essentials. But his eyes keep wandering over her the white cotton shirt and the face he knows that's all there is…

"This?" she frowns at the lace and wires then tosses it at Dean. "I am hungry."

"Uh, okay, yeah." Sam stammers while Dean fumbles the bra she tossed at his face. "So, um, shoes." He places the pair of chucks on the bed along with the socks which she looks at and then up at him. She glances at his feet and points to his feet. "My boots?"

"Hey," Dean rounds the bed and grabs the chucks and gently taps her shoulder. "No shoes, no service." He states. "Them's the rules. So if you want to eat. You put these on."

She sits, a frown on her face. "There are rules to eating…?"

"Rules for lots of things, darlin'." Dean kneels in front of her and takes her foot like he would a child. He slips on the sock and then starts lacing up the chucks.

"But for eating… what do my feet have to do with how I eat?" she demands as Dean starts to lace up the second shoe.

"Its just the way things are now." Sam assures. He grabs his jacket and slips it on as Dean stands up and grabs the sweater he picked up for her.

She takes it from Dean, slipping her arms into the sleeves and pauses to admire the soft feel of the material. "What is this?"

The Winchesters stop on their way out and glance at each other.

"Uh, your sweater?" Sam hesitates and offers a shrug to Dean's annoyed expression.

"I know what its called." She retorts. Her annoyance mounts as Dean grabs the edges and does up the zipper for her. She's getting the idea they'll be treating her like a fool.

"Its…a mix of cotton and something else." He grumbles. "There's a label on the back. You can read it later." He heads to the door all the while trying to forget what else he saw in the bag that she's not wearing.

They're waiting outside as she hesitates to step out. She's seen all of it before; the cars, the lights, the music and the people… But she hasn't been a part of it and its not like she thought. For one, the smells are overwhelming, as are all the lights and noise.

"How do you live this way?"

Dean looks around the parking lot, he tries to see it the way she's looking at their world and figures its gotta suck. He thinks it definitely sucks at times and sighs. "Its what we know." He turns back to her and holds out his hand. He's not sure why or if she's even going to take it and then Sam is at her left, tentatively placing his hand on her shoulder. Both gently urging out of the room.

Another cage.

"You'll get used to it." Sam assures. "A little at a time…"

But does she want to?

She lets them lead her, her hand firmly gripping Dean's. It's the only sign of her anxiety because when he glances down at her, she looks calmly back at him.

She tries to imagine what a life in the modern world could be but nothing comes to her. All she can see is the ring of fire and in this moment… she longs for the familiar cage.

**W**

They sit in the booth, a semi circular one with the Winchesters on either end. They each have a clear view to an exit. The waitress makes eyes at Dean and tries to flirt with Sam but he just pretends not to notice.

"What kind of name is it?" Dean blurts out while they wait for their food.

"Dean." Sam warns with a wary glance at her.

"Týphōnë." She repeats. "It means softness. Father chose it." She takes the napkin on the table and carefully starts to tear off little bits. Her eyes wander over the diner while the brothers share a silent conversation; where Sam tells Dean he's being rude with just a look. And Dean returns it with his shut up expression.

"Tÿ." Dean states. He nods and its settled as far as he's concerned.

"You can't just-."

"You wanna tell her what else it sounds like?" Dean challenges his brother.

"Is it not acceptable in this time?" she wonders, glancing between the brothers.

"No, I mean, its not…" Sam sighs and leans back in the booth glaring at Dean. "It sort of sounds like, uhm… typhoid."

She looks at them, waiting for an explanation and frowns when they don't produce one immediately.

"What is that?" she demands.

"Its uhm, a sickness." Dean explains. He pulls out his phone and brings up a search. "Read."

She doesn't like the commanding tone but she takes his cell and frowns at the screen. She ignores the article and shakes it which gets a crooked smile from Dean. She taps the screen, wondering where the light is coming from and quickly sets it on the table.

"I … may have broken it." She apologizes. "Whatever that is… what is it?" she looks at Dean.

"A cell phone. We call people with it." He grabs his phone and brings up the article again. "See? Its fine."

"…phone… like a telephone?" she takes it from him again and turns it over. "But this is not like … its so small. And there's no cable."

"You know about phones?" Sam wonders curiously.

"It was another one of his toys. Like the box with the pictures… a television. There are a lot of boxes; for music- I've never understood how he managed to put the musician inside." She looks up at Sam's laugh and frowns at him.

"Sorry, I just…" Sam shakes his head and opts for staring at the table.

"Great," Dean grins as the waitress comes back. "Just in time." He picks up his fork and knife and starts eating. Sam glances at Týphōnë who still hasn't picked up her utensils and quietly grabs her fork.

"Use this one to -."

"I'm not an idiot." She snaps at him, taking the fork from his hand.

Their meal is eaten in silence with plenty of surreptitious glances she does her best to ignore. All the while she's thinking of her options; to leave or stay.

Leaving means figuring out how to survive in their time while trying to avoid capture.

Staying means suffering the stupid questions and treatment as if she were a helpless child.

But she's smart enough to know she needs the Winchesters. Especially since they are Hunters and more so because they are enemies of Hell. The demons hate them with a passion. So its not like she's endangering them anymore than they've done by themselves.

**W**

The car ride is unsettling, uncomfortable and she hates it.

"You feeling ok?" Sam questions as they head towards the store.

"I don't like being inside that machine." Týphōnë draws in a deep breath that sort of helps settle her stomach.

"Her name is Baby and she's a 1967 Chevy Impala." Dean glowers. "Not a machine."

"Uh, store is that way." Sam points. He urges her forward with slight pressure of his hand on her back. He gives Dean a 'what the fuck' look as well.

"Hey," Dean falls in behind them. "We're not buying the whole friggin store."

"Its not like its your money." Sam throws back because they haven't stopped using the stolen credit cards. "She can't borrow anything of ours, either." Sam snaps. Then he looks at Dean with a warning because he knows his brother and while he may not have hit on Týphōnë, Sam knows that can change anytime.

Týphōnë stops in the center of the aisle and looks around. She can remember the stalls in the market where she would go with her Mother and servants to purchase goods. What her jailer showed her on the TV… of large indoor markets, its not like that either. She's coming to learn that not everything is the same, even if its is, which makes no sense other than to herself.

"Tÿ?" Dean is staring at her.

"I…" she moves forward, ignoring the slight frown on his face and grabs the first thing on the table in front of her.

"Hi!" the perky girl pops out of nowhere startling Týphōnë. "Ah!"

"No!" Dean and Sam both reach to grab Týphōnë before she hurts the sales girl.

"What the hell!" the girl stumbles and falls on her ass, while struggling to remove the sweater Týphōnë wrapped around her head.

"Sorry!" Sam reaches down and hauls the girl to her feet, all the while apologizing profusely as Dean drags Týphōnë out of the store.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demands outside.

"I … she …" Týphōnë turns on her heel and stomps over to the Impala, where she waits arms crossed and frowning at the ground. She's embarrassed to admit the girl startled her, even more embarrassed that she didn't kill the girl out right.

"We better go." Sam hurries to get in. "Dean, she was already on the phone."

"Krap." He grabs the back door and opens it. "In. Right now." He orders but it still takes her a second before doing as he says.

"You can't do that." Sam turns in his seat to look at her. "We don't -."

"More rules." Týphōnë snaps.

"Hey!" Dean yells. "This isn't 300, it aint Sparta and we don't go around beating up innocent store clerks!" He glares into the rearview mirror.

"I barely touched the girl." Týphōnë retorts. She turns her face to the window and regrets it as soon as she sees how fast the trees swoosh by.

"Barely?!" Dean splutters. "You choked her head with that sweater!"

Sam snickers and quickly covers his mouth, glancing at Dean.

"Really?" Dean glowers. But Sam can't help the chuckle because all he can see is the ridiculous sight of the sweater swathed sales girl on her ass. "This isn't…" and then Dean can't stop his lips from twitching. "Shut up."

"You shut up." Sam chuckles. He leans back and utters a long exhale. "We still have to go shopping with her."

They both glance to the back seat where Týphōnë has laid down. "Hey! She better not puke in my Baby."

"Dude," Sam frowns. "You think she's used to riding in cars?" he leans over the back seat and tentatively places his hand on her forehead. "Do you need us to stop?"

"I wish to never be confined in one of these machines." Týphōnë mutters. "My cage would be welcome at this point."

"Just point the way, sweetheart." Dean retorts.

"Shut up, Dean." Sam frowns. "Look, you'll get used to it. We'll stop, try shopping one more time. Just…don't beat up on the locals. We don't need to draw the cops or any unwanted attention."

"Rules for eating, Rules for shopping. Is there nothing in this world you haven't made rules for?" Týphōnë glares up at Sam.

"Welcome to the 21st century." Dean grumbles.

**W**

They realize quickly that Týphōnë is not patient. It doesn't take her long to pick what she likes and ignore the rest. But not once does she lay a hand on the sales staff so the boys count that as a win.

"I'm not a damn bell hop." Dean grumbles as they head out of the store. Each one of them carrying three bags in each hand, filled with clothes for her.

"Would you quit complaining already?" Sam scowls. He's not looking forward to listening to Dean mutter all the way to the Bunker.

"When can I remove this?" Týphōnë tugs on the waistband of her jeans, grimacing. They both get a clear view of the slightly irritated skin. Her eyes wander over the people in the strip mall and at the other women in tight jeans. "How do they stand it?"

"Uh," Sam spots the bathroom and points it out. "Over there. Here, take this bag." He quickly sorts through the shirts and blouses she picked, leaving only the gray slim fit cargo pants she didn't want to take off once she tried them on. And then they had to get one in every color there was. Except the hot pink. She almost hurt Sam when he insisted she should take a couple in that shade. She didn't find it funny in the least and said the color was almost as bad as being confined in Dean's 'machine'.

Týphōnë pulled out the pants and returned the bag to Sam before turning on her heel and disappearing into the restroom.

"Ok, what's the plan here, Sam?" Dean is scowling. "You got some more stores you wanna hit before we get on the road?"

"You're the one who said we had to get her something other than one of our shirts to wear." Sam retorts. "Besides, she's already got most of the basics."

"I swear," Dean glowers. "If you start talking accessorizing…"

"What?" Sam frowns. "Can you focus."

"On what?" Dean scowls. "She's got demons on her ass and every minute she's not at the Bunker is one those black eyed sons-o-bitches can grab her. We still have no idea what the hell they want her for. Or what Luci was doing with her all this time."

"I know." Sam agrees. "There's gotta be something at the Bunker. We'll…"

"Oh God!" Dean rolls his eyes. "Research. I can already feel my brain shorting just thinking of the hours I'm gonna be spending reading through those boring tombs. They don't even include drawings!"

"Are you-." Sam expels a very annoyed huff but doesn't get to say much else as Týphōnë returns.

"I am ready."

"Sure." Sam holds out the bag and frowns when there's nothing in her hands. "What-?"

"Hey, thanks again!"

The brothers look at the girl waving at them, then at each other. "It wasn't me." Dean assures. "I'd remember."

"Well, I didn't…" Sam denies and that just leaves them with …

"I don't like standing idle." Týphōnë tells them.

"What happened to your jeans?" Dean has some idea of what the girl was talking about.

"She likes them that way." Týphōnë shrugs her shoulder. "Are we still going to barter? Or have those rules changed as well?"

"Wait, you gave her … forget it." Dean sighs. "Lets go. Sam." He motions for his brother to lead the way.

**W**


End file.
